The battlefield is covered with silence. If you even consider speaking, there on that scarred plain, the air around you will seem to gather itself together oppressively, threatening you, daring you to disturb the peace of those who have died here.

The battle was many years ago, though, and the corpses have long since come home to roost. The place remains deserted, except for one curious denizen. The lonely novelty store of a deranged entrepreneur, shiny and gleaming, covered with neon and alfalfa, stands alone. Let's go inside.

Leon's House of Gifts has it all and more. Joy buzzers glued to the floor just inside set your whole body vibrating as you enter. While you are momentarily disoriented, something grabs your left arm. Was that a needle? In the ensuing delirium, you take in the inventory as if in a dream. You feel strangely compelled to purchase. You approach the register, bearing a heavy load of mysterious cardboard boxes. Leon leers at you as he takes your credit card and slides it through the reader. When he returns it to you, it seems to have faint streaks of blood on it, but on closer inspection, they are gone.

You return home to discover that all the boxes are empty save one. It contains a small photograph of Leon, grinning and waving a flag. He seems to be watching you. You discard it and stumble to bed. But in the trashcan, the picture of Leon is no longer grinning, but looking quite miffed...